Port Eynon, Gower, South Wales, Autumn
Just outside of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park, one can find other excellent stretches of South Wales coastline.
Just outside of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park, one can find other excellent stretches of South Wales coastline.
East of Pembrokeshire, Swansea is home to the Gower Peninsula and the Gower AONB (Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty). We had already explored a small section of this area at the start of our holiday at Mumbles. But further along the coastline from Mumbles one can find a stretch of fantastical coastline between Port Eynon and Rhossili.
Whereas the cliffs at Lydstep Head were more vertiginous, at the Gower Peninsula the cliffs are formed from a faulted and folded sequence of Carboniferous rocks. More recent sculpting occurred in the last Ice Age as the Gower lay on the southern margin of the last ice sheet. As a result, the cliffs here feature fantastic shapes of curves and folds smashing into each other at peculiar angles.
All photos taken on my Fujifilm X-T2 using my Vivitar “Series 1” 28–105mm f2.8–3.8 zoom and Laowa 9mm f2.8 prime lenses. RAWs converted in Capture One for iPad, developed and finalised in Affinity Photo for iPad.
Port Eynon, Gower, South Wales, Autumn by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
Port Eynon Bay, with its long sandy beach and tall dunes. Port Eynon is thought to be named after Prince Einion of Deheubarth or an 11th-century Welsh Prince named Eynon. “Eynon” is apparently a fairly common surname in Wales.
West of the beach one can hike up the cliffs to summit Port Eynon Point. My lovely Lisabet pictured here heading straight for the knife-edge tip of Port Eynon Point.
Looking back along the limestone cliff edge from Port Eynon Point towards the summit trig point, the open Overton Mere, and the Gower cliffs beyond.
From Overton Mere, looking back at Port Eynon Point, it’s easier to see the folding of limestone that’s occurred around this stretch of the Gower Coast. Seemingly impossible shapes and lines that are entirely natural.
Below Overton cliff more fantastic shapes are revealed, millions of years of folding, faulting, erosion, and glacial scouring.
On top of Long Hole cliff we navigated a join in the folds of limestone to use as a leading line towards the Common Cliffs, as beautiful late afternoon light highlights their shapes.
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Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland, Summer
Here’s the final collection of work from our week-long summer jaunt around Northumberland.
Here’s the final collection of work from our week-long summer jaunt around Northumberland.
Berwick-upon-Tweed is a town steeped in history and filled with curiosities. It’s England’s northernmost town, right in the northeastern corner of the country. In fact, it’s slightly further north than Copenhagen in Denmark as well as the southern tip of Sweden.
Berwick’s name comes from the Old English berewíc, meaning “corn/barley farm”, which I guess gives you an idea of the town’s origins. During a period of about 400 years, Berwick changed hands between England and Scotland a dozen times or so. Richard of Gloucester retook Berwick for England for the last time in 1482. More than 200 years later, the Kingdom of Scotland joined the Kingdom of England in 1707, forming the Kingdom of Great Britain, and ending the border quarrelling between the nations.
A persistent legend exists about the town “technically” being at war with Russia. The myth goes that because Berwick had changed hands several times, it was regarded as a special, separate entity, sometimes referred to in proclamations as "England, Scotland and the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed".
For the declaration of the Crimean War against Russia in 1853, Queen Victoria supposedly signed the proclamation as "Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, Ireland, Berwick-upon-Tweed and all British Dominions". When the Treaty of Paris was signed to conclude the war, "Berwick-upon-Tweed" was left out. This meant that, supposedly, one of Britain's smallest towns was officially at war with one of the world's largest powers – and the conflict extended by the lack of a peace treaty for over a century.
In reality, Berwick-upon-Tweed was not mentioned in either the declaration of war or the final peace treaty, and Berwick-upon-Tweed was legally part of the United Kingdom for both.
Regardless, the town is fascinating and you can feel the dual-nationality personality of the place. During our wandering, a sea fret obscured most of the coastline, lending a misty foggy atmosphere to our photography.
All photos shot on my Fujifilm X-T2 using my three prime lenses: a Samyang 35mm f/1.2, a Laowa 9mm f/2.8, and an adapted Pentax SMC 55mm f/2.0. Developed using RNI Film’s Astia 100f profile.
The Royal Tweed Bridge as the sea fret rolled in. It was constructed in the 1920s, designed to take on the increasing numbers of traffic away from the old Berwick Bridge, which had stood since the 1600s.
The nice thing about the Royal Tweed Bridge is you can get right underneath it and see its “guts”, so to speak. An incredible piece of engineering.
One of our favourite shops in Berwick, Slightly Foxed. The interior of the shop is almost made out of books, there’s so many.
The weird leaning/curved building is the old Granary, now serving life as the Granary Gallery.
An unusually empty Berwick, as we make our way towards the sea.
As we approach the North Sea, a look back reveals the three bridges of Berwick, which cross the Tweed.
Old riverside properties as the Tweed pours out into the North Sea.
We decide to venture out towards Berwick Lighthouse, England’s most northerly lighthouse. It was built in 1826.
Time to whip out my 9mm ultra-wide lens to capture the entirety of the lighthouse.
And lurking behind the lighthouse, a fisherman investigating opportunities in the North Sea.
We decide to exit the pier and continue up northwards along the Berwick coastline, see what’s what.
Welp, this was an unexpected find. The bloated carcass of a whale, long dead and washed up on the shore of Meadow Haven. I couldn’t tell you what type of whale it was.
Further up the Berwick coastline we came across an unexpected and delightful find: a raised platform of rocks and boulders known as Meadow Haven and Bucket Rocks. Let’s explore compositions!
I’m always fascinated by how geometric geology like this comes to be formed.
We pop up through the dunes away from the sea to find a way through the golf course and back into the town.
A lovely clump of Red Valerian amongst the reeds and sand dunes, Centranthus ruber.
Story time! As we made our way back through Berwick town, we stopped outside someone’s house to admire their front garden filled with flowers. Lisabet took some photos. As she did, an old gentleman enquired approached us to ask about our activity. After learning we were just admiring his garden, he simply invited us through to their back garden, which was even more fecund and filled with all sorts of flowers and vegetables. The “lady of house” was very enthusiastic about her gardening, and was more than happy to meet us and run through the garden with her. I snapped this quick portrait of her. What a wonderfully welcoming and friendly pair they were!
Her garden was, indeed, glorious.
After the Surprise Garden Tour we made our way towards the old town walls and military fortifications that surround Berwick-upon-Tweed. Local kids enjoy a game of footie sent against the 500-year old fortifications.
Walkways have been constructed around the old walls and fortifications, but there are still sections that have been preserved.
This area of the walls are known as the Elizabethan ramparts, which were essentially 16th-century upgrades to the existing 14th-century construction.
And back down the old cobbled street.
Newton Point, Northumberland, Summer
Ah haar, there’s a sea fret rolling in.
Ah haar, there’s a sea fret rolling in.
Early on in our Northumberland break we fancied a hike around Embleton Bay, to shoot photos of the bay’s massive and smooth black basalt boulders with views towards the ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle.
However, plans change. As we neared the bay it became clear (or rather, it didn’t) that a “haar” or sea fret had rolled in off the North Sea, covering the whole Northumberland coastline in thick fog. There were no views to be had of the castle ruins.
Instead, we followed trail—known as St. Oswald’s Way—north, passing through the National Trust village of Low Newton-by-the-Sea towards Newton Point. We ventured with open eyes and mind, which was good because Newton Point was an absolute delight that we no idea about.
Additionally, the haar provided an atmospheric aura to some of my photos, which I’m happy to take.
All photos shot on my Fujifilm X-T2 using my three prime lenses: a Samyang 35mm f/1.2, a Laowa 9mm f/2.8, and an adapted Pentax 55mm f/2.0. Images made 80% in-camera using a customised Velvia film simulation, with minor edits and corrections afterwards in Lightroom and Affinity Photo.
After parking at Embleton, our hopes were high for wonderful scenes of Dunstanburgh Castle.
Alas, no castle could be seen. The haar had covered the whole Northumberland coastline in a thick fog. Nevertheless, to get to Embleton Bay and the trail from Embleton Village, you have to pass through Dunstanburgh Castle Golf Club. There’s a lot of golf around the Northumberland coast.
Above Embleton Bay, near the Embleton Links golf course, there’s a whole bunch of “beach chalets” or, more accurately, bungalows that sit on National Trust land. On a clear sunny day I’ve no doubt they look adorable and inviting. With the sea fret rolled in, the bungalows presented a more foreboding presence.
Spooky. Zombie film, anyone?
A way down to the sands of Embleton Bay, but my eye was caught by the people walking along the beach, appearing like ghosts as the haar rolled in off the sea.
We close in on the charming village of Low-Newton-by-the-Sea, an old fishing village now almost totally owned by the National Trust.
The village is known for its cream white cottages and open square, with the 18th-century Ship Inn pub right in the middle. A charming place.
North of the village we break away from St. Oswald’s Way and take the private road east towards the coastline, curious to see what was here.
What we found was a coastline of bloom flowers, lichen and moss, and volcanic black boulders everywhere. With the haar in place, the area appeared to me magical and surreal.
Clints and grikes of volcanic basalt rock provided lovely textures and lines for playing around with compositions.
With my ultra-wide 9mm lens, I was able to render some more unusual compositions around here by getting really low and intimate with some of the small channels carved into the rock.
Blossoming flowers and weeds everywhere gave me more opportunities for interesting photos.
The headland of Newton Point houses a former LORAN (long range navigation) station from the Cold War era. Spooky.
We followed the eastern edge of Newton Point around to its northern side, and then—BOOM. This view and these cliffs. We had no idea they were here.
Not massive cliffs by all means, but shapely and beautiful nevertheless.
Columns of dark volcanic basalt stand as a fortress against the unrelenting sea.
The North Sea around here was wonderfully clear and azure. This made it awfully tempting for Lisabet to go for a swim.
Grass and lichen provide gorgeous colour contrast against the azure water and blue fog.
Fantastic colours and views.
From Newton Point we dropped down to the beach northwards known, interestingly, as Football Hole.
The retreating tide left behind these following lines and curves that I had to make a composition of.
The dunes around Snook Point make for some lovely views. At this point the sun even threatened to break through the haar.
Sand dunes that seemingly go on forever…
A beautiful blossom of Geranium sanguineum, otherwise known as bloody crane’s-bill. Also the national flower of Northumberland!
On our way back, the haar was finally starting to burn off courtesy of the midday summer sun. In the distance, cows graze peaceful near a pond.
Bamburgh, Budle & Cheswick Sands, Northumberland, Summer
Despite being in peak summer, it wasn’t all glorious sunshine during our week in Northumberland.
Despite being in peak summer, it wasn’t all glorious sunshine during our week in Northumberland.
On this particular day I poured over the various weather apps and services I check to ascertain temperatures, chances of rain, atmospheric conditions and more. From what I could see, if we stayed near the coast of Northumberland around Bamburgh we could probably avoid a lot of storms that were moving southwards.
After a beautiful morning of sunshine wandering around the beaches of Bamburgh and Budle, another glance at the weather services indicated a storm moving in over the area. This was also self-evident as the clouds above the beach and castle of Bamburgh were getting dark and foreboding. Lisabet and I nipped into a pub for lunch and decided on another beach further north that we hadn’t explored before: Cheswick Sands.
Thankfully, this was the correct decision. Not only did the rain fall as soon as we arrived at the pub (thank you, Lord Crewe Hotel), but the conditions at Cheswick Sands were blessedly dry. More than that, Cheswick Sands is beautiful. The area features extensive dunes, soft beaches, and fantastical sandstone formations to play around with photographically.
I made perhaps some of the finest seascape compositions I’ve ever done.
All photos shot on my Fujifilm X-T2 using my three prime lenses: a Samyang 35mm f/1.2, a Laowa 9mm f/2.8, and an adapted Pentax SMC 55mm f/2.0. All images were made 80% in-camera using a customised Velvia film simulation, with minor edits and corrections after in Lightroom and Affinity Photo.
An early start meant we were able to park freely in Bamburgh and wander around the village with few people around. Pretty much no matter where you are in Bamburgh, the castle is sure to dominate the skyline.
The grounds around Bamburgh Castle were looking particularly lush and verdant.
Not something I expected, or wanted, to see when clambering around Harkess Rocks on Bamburgh beach. A dead Northern Gannet (Morus bassanus). You tend to see these beautiful birds more around cliffs and isolated rocky islands, so I’m not sure why this one was found near the beach.
My first aim of the morning at Bamburgh beach was to head to Harkess Rocks, which separates Bamburgh beach from Budle Bay. Here one can find a painted deer. Is it prehistoric? A recent piece of art? No-one’s quite sure. One story says that it was painted because a white stag jumped into the sea to escape hunters. Another story reckons it was painted by Italian prisoners of war during World War 2.
Harkess Rocks and Blackrock Point features a prehistoric fault line and a confusing jumbled mass of ancient volcanic rock. Compositionally, I think this area is better to shoot when the tide is in, allowing the water to better separate the shapes of the rocks.
Above Harkess Rocks is Bamburgh Moor, where Lisabet alerted me to a field full of these beautiful flowers (Phacelia tanacetifolia or Purple Tansy). You can read about the farmers who manage this field and why they sow the flowers here.
You’ve gotta admit, it’s a pretty stunning scene.
More of the layering of the scene is involved in this composition as the day started to brighten up.
North of Bamburgh Lighthouse, around Blackrocks Point, we found this open rock pool surrounded by these tessellating structures of volcanic rock. Made for a lovely, if challenging, composition.
Back from the main rock pool, I spotted another smaller rock pool filled with vivid lime green sea moss. I lined up a composition to create a kind of Figure-of-8 shape in the middle of the frame, surrounded by the dark volcanic rocks of Blackrocks Point.
North west of Blackrocks Point and Bamburgh beach, the sands open out into Budle Bay and its vast expanse of golden sand.
One reason on this day not to venture into the sea for a paddle or a swim: jellyfish. No thanks.
A minimalistic composition involving the vast virgin sands of Budle Bay.
Heading back south towards Bamburgh, the day brightened up and people had arrived to soak up the sun. In the distance, you can make out one of the Farne Islands, an important wildlife habitat.
The hulking might of Bamburgh Castle, standing protectively over the coastline and sea.
At around midday the beach was quickly filling up with people. I nabbed this quick composition of Bamburgh Castle in the distance with the edge of Harkess Rocks closer to the viewer.
This was where we decided to exit the beach and devise an alternative plan to avoid the approaching storm. Foreboding indeed.
The approaching storm made for some dramatic clouds above Bamburgh Castle, though.
Seemingly oblivious to the approaching storm about to drench them in rain, a group of friends enjoy a game of croquet in the fields next to Bamburgh Castle.
Bamburgh’s a proper bonny village.
After escaping the rains falling over Bamburgh and inland Northumberland, we drove north to visit a relatively little-known beach called Cheswick Sands. I snapped the rather dramatic skyline from the car park. Good job we weren’t under that.
Access to Cheswick Sands involves clambering up and down the soft sands of Cheswick’s dunes. From the top of one, I made this composition of the undulating dunes, the North Sea, and the dark storm in the distance.
As we gently wandered north along the gloriously empty beach of Cheswick Sands, we came across a band of exposed sandstone known as Cheswick Black Rocks.
They featured some wonderfully sculptured and bizarre rock formations, shaped over the eons by wind and sea. I had lots of fun making compositions of them.
It’s not very often I get to keep my ultra-wide 9mm lens on and play around with strange rock shapes and near-far photographic compositions. Loads of fun!
Probably my favourite composition of the whole day.
The northernmost parts of Cheswick Black Rocks were still covered in slippery seaweed and moss, which made for great colours.
Sculpted rocks, sand dunes, the North Sea, and a stormy sky. Love it.
I managed to climb on top of some of the higher rocks to grab this more unusual curving shape, accentuated courtesy of my 9mm lens.
Another fantastical rock formation, seemingly made of “scales” of discs folding over each other.
Curving flowing lines and pure untouched sand with a dramatic sky above.
As the sun came out to play a bit more, I found this beautiful boulder that I had to make a composition of before we returned to the car.
Miles of rippled wet sand and a long pool reflecting the dramatic sky above. What a quality day.